AN: I know European countries use military time. I'm just accustomed to using AM/PM and it seems wrong if I leave it off...

Forgot this before: I don't own Hetalia.

Chapter 2-One Week and One Day

The shrill alarm clock woke Germany at precisely 5:30 AM. He turned off the alarm and stared blankly up at the ceiling. As sleep drifted away it left a cold awareness behind. Something didn't feel right. Everything seemed far too cold. The man sat up and looked at the other side of his bed.

There were only empty sheets and a perfectly fluffed pillow. Not even a hint of an indent was on the bed. It had been a while since someone had snuck into his room in the middle of the night, a while since he had woken with someone else in his bed. It had been almost a month. Ever since that one morning when he opened his eyes to find Italy already awake, smiling widely, so excited to tell Germany about something 'wonderful'...

The German man narrowed his eyes in annoyance and forced himself to look away. There had never been anything to look at anyway. Germany sighed and rubbed his forehead with one hand. He needed to stop waking up like this.

He left the room and walked down a flight of stairs. Faint snoring greeted him. A small bit of hope filled him as he entered the living room.

The snoring came from the couch, specifically from a mound of dark blankets with the barest hint of brunette hair sticking out of one end. Germany cursed himself in his mind. Of course, it was only Romano. He would be lucky if Prussia returned within two weeks with the way they had been yelling at each other. He would be lucky if Italy visited within two months, with how happy he currently was elsewhere.

Germany turned quickly and left the living room. He went down another flight of stairs and (ignoring the door to his absent brother's room) walked into the weight room. "Nothing like it to take one's mind off things," the blond muttered to himself as he walked over to the treadmill. Germany started warming up, focusing on breathing and counting and not thinking, then stepped onto the treadmill.

By the time Germany had run a mile his mind began to wander away from the exercise and to the disasters of the previous day. Wasn't his anger at Prussia completely justified? Romano may have been the one destroying things, but it was the ex-nation that had caused the chaos and whose screaming woke Germany at three in the morning. It was all because Prussia couldn't stop himself from getting wasted at least once a week. Hadn't he been warned-multiple times-to stop binge drinking with his friends? Germany would have to talk with France and Spain about...no, he would just talk to France. That would be enough. There was no need to speak to the other man.

Germany frowned and stepped off the treadmill. Exercise was supposed to keep his mind off...that. The nation moved over to the bench press and started lifting, counting his reps out loud. Two minutes later he stopped, put the barbell down, and stared at the white ceiling.

What was wrong with him? Normally exercise would be a good enough distraction. Perhaps he had to try something else. Paperwork? No, that hadn't worked well enough the past few weeks. It hadn't kept those two out of his head.

The German groaned and stood. He added more weights to the barbell. More exercise would make him forget. He just wasn't trying hard enough yet.

There had to be a way to forget.

Romano's alarm clock started ringing at 6:30. The clock soon found itself against the far wall but it did not stop ringing. Romano growled and pulled the blankets closer around his head, trying to block out the sound. Why the hell had he set that damn thing so early? He was exhausted. Did it matter if he couldn't have a decent Italian breakfast for one more day? Romano could just sleep through it anyway. He didn't feel like eating disgusting German food. He could starve for one day, especially if it meant more sleep. He couldn't even think clearly anyway. If only that damn alarm clock stopped ringing and let him sleep!

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

Riiiiiiiiiiiiing.

The Italian slowly freed himself from the blankets and stalked over to the alarm clock slowly. He glared down at the infuriating device. "Damn worthless piece of crap," Romano muttered dangerously as he picked it up. He hit the button on the top and spent the next minute glaring at it.

Romano's legs suddenly wavered and brought him back to the world of the living. If he was falling asleep on his feet while glaring at an alarm clock then he definitely needed to go back to bed. He would find a way to murder the clock later.

Romano headed back to the couch, then suddenly stopped in the middle of the room. He blinked slowly and sniffed the air. It smelled of...nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Excitement bubbled up inside the Italian. "Finally!" he mentally cheered as he tossed the alarm clock towards the couch and ran into the kitchen. He wouldn't have to eat that nasty German food! The potato bastard probably wasn't even awake yet! Romano had finally beaten him! A triumphant grin spread across the Italian's face as he went through the cupboards and grabbed bowls and flour. He was going to make the best pizza ever.

...Maybe Romano would make extra. Just to prove to that stupid German that his pizza was better than the nasty German crap he made every morning. It wasn't like he was worried the steroid jerk was going to kick him out of the house...it wasn't a bribe...

Romano would just have to be careful and not break any more plates. He wouldn't even have to touch them if he made breakfast anyway. The potato bastard would have to do the dishes instead! Romano's grin widened as he filled a plastic bowl with warm water and grabbed a packet of yeast.

Wonderful smells filled Germany's kitchen for the first time in Romano's stay. A good, old-fashioned tomato and basil pizza was almost finished cooking in the oven. A giddy happiness filled the Italian as he sat in front of the oven watching the crust heat and the mozzarella melt. He had beaten Germany to the kitchen. He had won. Romano had made breakfast before the potato bastard even woke up.

"Take that, potato bastard," said Romano smugly.

"Take what?"

Romano spun around so fast his neck stung. There, framed in the doorway to the basement, was the German. Despite it being so early the man looked exhausted. He reached up to push his ungelled hair back from his sweaty forehead. Romano wrinkled his nose and turned away back to the oven, "I beat you to the kitchen."

Germany sighed and wiped the back of his neck with a towel. "Did you make enough for two?"

"Maybe. Maybe I wanted two servings."

The blond man shook his head and walked out of the room. He started walking up the stairs and said over his shoulder, "Just don't break anything before I get out of the shower." Italian curses followed him as he walked into the bathroom and locked the door.

A loud beeping erupted from the oven as soon as the water turned on upstairs. Romano took the pizza out and turned off the oven. His lips were stuck in a frown, his previous giddiness forgotten. How dare that potato bastard not be grateful that Romano had made breakfast? Maybe he should eat it all just to spite the asshole! Then he'd have to make his own food...ew. Romano shuddered. He was not going to let any nasty German food replace the smells his amazing pizza had made. If that meant sharing his pizza with Germany then so be it.

Romano carefully cut the pizza and grabbed two plates. He put two pieces on each plate and carried them to the table slowly. Two glasses of grape juice were placed beside the plates. Romano frowned and glared down at the juice. It had probably been bought by his brother on a shopping trip he had forgotten his ID for, but there was nothing else to go with the pizza. The Italian made a mental note to buy some really expensive wine soon. Maybe he could find some money in the potato bastard's office...

"What are you scheming?" Romano spun around (his neck was going to snap if he did that anymore) and smirked at the freshly showered German. The annoying blond was already in a dress shirt and pants with his hair slicked back again.

"I am not scheming," Romano said as his smirk turned into a scowl, "Get over here and eat, potato bastard. I didn't make a spectacular pizza just for it to be wasted."

Germany sighed and sat across from the irate Italian. He looked down on the glass of juice. "I assume you didn't make coffee then?"

"Hell no. You aren't ruining my pizza like that."

The German rolled his eyes and began eating. It actually wasn't bad, despite what he had heard about Romano and his uselessness about the house. Germany still made a mental note to get up before Romano the next day so he could make breakfast instead. Pizza and grape juice was not his idea of a filling way to start the day. He needed his coffee and potatoes.

Germany finished eating and took his dishes to the sink. Beside it was a mess of flour and leftover bits of dough. The man sighed and grabbed a paper towel. There was no use in waiting around for the Italian to clean it.

He finished cleaning the mess just as Romano brought his dishes up. The German quickly moved to clean the plates while Romano stood behind him and watched. And watched. And watched. Germany rolled his eyes and looked over his shoulder, a rude question on the tip of his tongue.

The look on Romano's face wasn't sad or happy. It was odd, almost childlike, a mixture of annoyance and hopeful. Germany sighed inwardly. Romano was almost as childish as his brother, looking for assurance. "The pizza was good," Germany finally said.

Romano looked visibly relieved, then realized what he was doing and scowled. He crossed his arms and looked to the side as he said, "I don't care what you thought about the pizza! Bastard." The Italian stomped out of the kitchen and into the living room. He turned on the tv and raised the volume. Germany chuckled but the sound was masked completely.

AN: I since this is finals week I won't have much time to write. Also, I don't have a working computer at home, so the next update might be really delayed...sorry to anyone reading this!